Worthy
by rainydaysuedes
Summary: **UNDESERVING FROM WILL'S POINT OF VIEW** Will Graham is visited by Alana Bloom (as well as another special guest) at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane for the first time since his arrest. Why does she refuse to give up on him? And why does Hannibal Lecter feel the need to keep reminding Will of his defeat?


It had been 96 hours since Will Graham slept.

His eyes burned and his body ached, but he would not give in. The physical pain he endured in the waking world was nothing compared to the guilt and torment he'd experience if he let himself drift off into the blackness. He'd see him. The monster's pointed gaze would sear into his skin and Will would awake in a screaming fit, drenched in sweat and fear.

Except waking up was different here, even worse than before. He couldn't get a glass of water to calm himself. He couldn't check on the dogs. He couldn't walk out in the fields and look back at his home to get a sense of peace - this was his home now. He'd never really feel safe, not ever again.

Since he had no sleep schedule, he often lost track of time. By the utter stillness of the corridor, the silence from the other inmates, or "patients", as they were supposed to refer to themselves, he figured it was late night, maybe early morning. He was trying to calculate how long it'd be until the guards brought breakfast, but his thinking was cut short when he heard a pair of footsteps coming down the hall.

That's strange, he thought. It surely wasn't breakfast time yet, but usually when one of the patients were needed for other reasons, they were retrieved by guards who almost always came in pairs. And these footsteps, there was something different about them. They were significantly lighter than the heavy trudge of the guards. They were quicker, too.

When Alana Bloom stood before his cell, horror plain in her eyes, Will was only slightly surprised.

"_Will,_" she murmured. "I... Will, it's me."

He'd been seeing her frequently, actually, but usually only when he'd been thinking about her for a while. It was strange that his mind would make her show up now.

"Alana?"

He noticed her gulp back tears. "Yes," she said, smiling fakely. "It's Alana."

Another thing about his typical visions of her: she never really spoke to him. She just stood there, always in his cell with him, very bright and clear in his vison, but she never said a word.

He laughed suddenly, darkly. "This isn't real, is it?" He shook his head. "I keep seeing you, Dr. Bloom, but they tell me that you haven't stopped by. And why would you?"

"Will," she said slowly. This Alana was not like the version he'd been seeing as of late: her skin was strikingly pale, purple bags prominent under her eyes. She was no longer the bright flame of a lit candle, but a worn and damaged burnt up wick. "Please. This is very real. I came because I wanted to talk to you. Because we're friends."

Maybe this was really her. Maybe she had come to see him, finally. This couldn't have been a hallucination like the others: if it was, and she was speaking to him, she wouldn't call him her friend. If his mind was in control, she'd tell him that every single confused feeling he felt for her was reciprocated in whole. And that wasn't happening.

"I thought you'd had enough of me," he said. "_I've_ had enough of me."

"I'm not giving up on you," Alana stated, as confindent as her broken voice could be. "I could never give up on you."

"You should," he said. He leaned back against the wall, so thoroughly exhausted. "They said I was guilty."

"Do _you_ say you're guilty?" Her tone wasn't incriminating, just honestly curious.

"I..." He gulped. He wouldn't lie to her. "I think you know the answer to that, Dr. Bloom."

She took a moment before changing the subject, and he would have given anything to know what had gone through her ingenious mind in those few seconds.

"So," she said, obviously wanting to move on, "coming from Alana, your _friend_, Alana, not Dr. Bloom- you've been seeing things, me, specifically. You're awake at an ungodly hour, so I can assume more nightmares? You're not dealing well, are you, Will?"

He rubbed at his eyes, only aggravating them even more. "I've been better."

"When did you sleep last?"

"It doesn't matter, Alana-"

"_Will_."

He couldn't make himself look at her She made him feel guilty. "I don't know, three, four days ago? It's hard to keep track here."

"Do you want to try now?" she asked him. "I'll be right here. You'll be safe."

He shook his head and smiled. It was nice that she cared, even if she thought he was a cold-blooded killer. "I appreciate the thought, but I'd rather not sleep."

"You have been having nightmares, then?" she inquired.

"Nightmares?" He sighed. "Not really. They're fairly simple dreams. I'm here in my cell, just as I am now, but he... he's always where you are, right by the bars. He stares at me."

"Who stares at you, Will?"

"I'm frozen," he said, ignoring her question because he knew if he didn't say it all now he might never be able to make himself say it again, "and his eyes burn my skin and I know it's my fault. I know I didn't stop him."

"Are you talking about-"

"Dr. Lecter?" Who else? "Yes. He killed them, Alana."

"Will, I know you believe that, but I can assure you that Hannibal is-"

Oh, how he wished she could see the truth like he did.

"I guess it's my fault anyway. He might have killed them but I couldn't catch him in time. Maybe I deserve to be here afterall."

"Hannibal Lecter is not a murderer, Will, and I believe that what you did wasn't your fault-"

"Listen to me," he said quickly, urgently. He didn't know how much longer she'd be here, really, actually be here, just feet in front of him. "You can't be alone with him. Stay away from him as much as you can, without being too obvious. If he thinks you believe me he might try to hurt you. I don't know what I'd do if..." His words tampered off when he saw that she was crying. He didn't want that.

"I know you think I killed them when I was unaware, that I can't recall ending human lives because of my sickness." He stood and walked toward her, until they were face to face, separated by only inches of space and the bars of his cell. "I can't blame you, because that's the logical answer. But please, Alana, you have to believe me when I say that right _now_, I have never been more awake."

He'd never seen her cry before. He wished he could reach out to her and wipe her tears away, but of course that was out of the question.  
"You have to promise me you'll protect yourself," he murmured. "Jack can get you clearance to carry a gun._ Please_."

"Okay," she said softly. "I promise."

He didn't want her to be sad. "Why are you crying?"

She shook her head, her dark curls that were slightly flatter than the last time he'd seen her brushing around her shoulders. "You're a good man, Will. You don't deserve this. This shouldn't have happened to you."

"But don't you think I killed them?" His voice broke. What she thought was the only thing that mattered to him in that moment.

"I don't think it matters," she said, her eyes locked on his. "The Will Graham I know, the man who is standing in of front of me right now... I only wish my heart could be as good as his."

"I think you're overestimating me," he said softly. How could she see the good in him when, in her eyes, his hands were stained with blood?

"I know I'm not."

He didn't reply, because he didn't want to argue with her. For a few minutes, they just stood there - not reading each other liked both their brains were trained to do, but merely soaking up the details of one another. He didn't know when he'd get a chance to look at her like this again.

The trance was broken when she eventually checked her watch.

"I better get going," she said softly, stepping back, away from him. "I've missed you, Will."

He smiled. "You haven't created hallucinations of me, though, have you?" He knew that she knew he wasn't kidding.

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

No. It wasn't okay. He wanted to see her everyday, to just be with her and talk to her and have someone who tried to not simply write him off as either evil or insane.

But she was worthy of so much more than this. She was worthy of so much more than him. She chose to be his friend, even if she didn't choose to believe him.

So he nodded and she was gone.

Ten minutes later another visitor arrived for him.

"Hello, Will," Hannibal Lecter said. He carried a platter with a fancy silver lid on top.

"Dr. Lecter," Will said, standing up from his cot. Instantly he knew this wasn't a dream. His body hadn't succumbed to the need for rest. He was awake. He could tell this was so because he wasn't afraid this time.

"Usually they don't permit visitors to bring food, but they've made an exception today. I've worked with some of the residents here before, the staff knows me quite well. Also, I've began a friendship with Dr. Chilton."

Lecter smiled and took the lid off the tray, revealing what looked like a pinkish colored steak and some kind of side of mixed vegetables. Will thought he was going to throw up.

"What's the matter, Will?" Lecter asked. "Aren't you hungry?"

"You," Will said, stepping closer to the bars of the cell, "disgust me."

The older man shook his head. "It's a shame, too. I was up all night_ preparing_ this dish for you."

Someone had been killed just for Lecter to taunt Will. Someone's life had been taken for such a stupid, trivial reason.

"Why are you here?" Will asked, infuriated. His hands curled up into fists. "Did you come to mock me? To remind me of who won round one?"

"Round one?" Lecter repeated, laughing. "I'm afraid there are no more rounds, Will, and there is certainly no winner."

Will knew Lecter wouldn't say anything that'd give him away, not with all the cameras in the corridor trained right on them.

"No, actually, I came just to say hello," Lecter continued. He covered the plate of human meat again and sighed. "I didn't want our friendship to suffer over this, but by the way things are going that might be unavoidable. I know what you've been saying about me, Will."

"I've only been telling the truth," Will replied, his voice surprisingly calm, not revealing how angry he truly was. "Nothing more."

"I see," Lecter said. "Is that what you were telling Alana moments ago? The truth?"

"You will _not_ bring her into this," Will said, seething. "If you hurt her -"

"Hurt her?" Lecter asked, feigning shock. "Why would I have any reason to harm Alana Bloom?"

"She doesn't believe me, anyway," Will muttered, looking down. She'd sided with Dr. Lecter over him. Despite the fact that it was what any logical person would do, Will still was embarrassed.

"Of course she doesn't believe you," Lecter said, pity in his voice. "She's smart enough to see through your madness and lies."

"I don't know which is worse," Will said, Hannibal's betrayal still stinging like a slap on the face, "believing that I did it, or believing that you did this to me." **

Lecter merely smirked and shook his head.

"I don't know how you did it. You got in my head. You made me forget."

"Did I?" Lecter asked. "Will, there's no need to put up a show, especially with me. We all know the truth now-"

"I'm going to remember," Will stated, eerily sure of his words, "and when I do, there will be a reckoning." **

Dr. Hannibal Lecter smiled as he turned to walk away. A vicious, capable murderer, walking free.

"Ah, Will. I wouldn't count on it."

* * *

**Author's Note**: The lines with ** after them were taken directly from the season two trailer and belong completely to NBC and Bryan Fuller and all those wonderful people.


End file.
